Away From Home (Away From You)
by kaotic312
Summary: Despite the title, there is no slash or immediate pairings. Two brothers who know nothing of each other meet one summer at camp. Lifelong held secrets are revealed. Brothers bond and don't want to go back to the way things were. But there are complications. Frerin and Thorin haven't spoken in 14 years, ever since the death of their beloved sister. Adventure, with some fun.
1. In which applications are made

The waiting list for the highly expensive and completely elite summer camp was extensive. Some families had put their names forward when their infants were first named. The best of the best. However, some families had names so old and revered that they could call up last minute and find a place had magically opened up for their young scions.

Lord Elrond Peredhel frowned thoughtfully, drumming his fingers in slight frustration upon his antique mahogany desk. "My good Gandalf, surely this is a duplicated application?"

"So I thought as well." The headmaster of the camp bowed his head very slightly to the head of the board of trustees. "Fili Durinson. Kili Durinson. A mistake of the keyboard somewhere. One child, not two."

"Indeed." Sniffed the British peer, not so much in a haughty manner but in a way that clearly showed elegant breeding and a thoughtful personality.

Gandalf Graymane, whose name lived up to his rather unorthodox appearance, smiled benignly. He dressed simply and for function, his long gray hair could do with some styling, and with his walking stick he looked almost elderly. Until you peered into his eyes. Ever present youth and vigor dwelled there. Someone who would never be old, no matter what date showed on their birth certificate. "So of course I looked into it."

Lord Elrond gave a small tilt of his head in acknowledgement. His headmaster may look a bit on the shaggy side, but no detail ever escaped his notice. The man was simply brilliant and every year other organizations kept trying to lure him away. Elrond wasn't even sure what it was that kept Gandalf with them. He was merely grateful. "Of course."

"One is sixteen, the other fourteen. One lives in London and the other in Las Angeles, at least some of the time. Definitely two different persons."

The camp trustee frowned slightly. "A coincidence with the names then?"

Headmaster Gandalf shrugged and looked a bit smug. "Not ….quite."

Elrond's left eyebrow arched delicately upwards in mute question.

The gray haired male smiled. "Young Fili usually summers in Greece or France with family. He's the elder. Even younger Kili typically spends his summers in Montana and Colorado. An outdoorsy sort of family."

"And this year they want to attend our camp? Why?" Queried the trustee, peering uncertainly down at the two applications. A blond and a brunet. No obvious physical similarity, but the features were related nonetheless. Despite their coloring, the two favored each other quite a bit.

"As for Fili, I am unsure. The family says they want him to attend our camp in order to expand his horizons." Gandalf shook his head kindly. "Reading between the lines I got the impression that the family needed him out of the way for the summer. Keep him out of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Elrond asked, instantly alert.

Gandalf merely shrugged. "Not of his making that I could find. Family trouble. "Erebor. He is the heir of Thorin."

The trustee sucked in a harsh breath, nodding. He understood all too well now.

"My take on the situation is they didn't want young Fili to be a target of any kind." Gandalf continued.

The British peer nodded. That kind of trouble was in his wheelhouse. Youngsters of certain elite names were always a target for the unscrupulous. "He will be sheltered well here, then."

"Indeed." Gandalf agreed. "As for younger Kili, well." Here he gave a rueful grin. "He was a last minute addition to our camp roster. His uncle made a quite generous donation."

Elrond frowned and moved some papers around on his desk. When he arrived at the number his eyes widened and he shot his headmaster an incredulous look. "Money doesn't pull weight around here."

Gandalf nodded. "I was going to turn the gift away. But did a little looking into the situation. Kili is …" He stopped and spread his hands. "He needs us."

Lord Elrond paused in his reading, looking up at that particular tone of voice. He leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers as he studied his headmaster. "He needs us?" He invited an explanation.

Gandalf did not indulge him, but merely gave a wavering smile and a wink.

"Oh dear." Elrond breathed out helplessly. It didn't happen often, but at times over the years Gandalf had taken on a camper for no reason that he'd ever given. Merely stating that the youth was in 'need'. "The last time you said that I ended up adopting a young son."

"Aragorn is doing well?" Gandalf asked most politely, although he knew the answer already.

"He is brilliant at his studies and thrives." Elrond smiled deeply, truly proud of the newest addition to his family. "The twins have opened a new business venture that is exceeding expectations and Arwen is getting ready to graduate with honors."

Gandalf smiled with pride. He and Elrond were long-time friends as well as employer and employee.

The British peer picked up Kili's application and gave his headmaster a suspicious look. "Am I to end up adopting this one as well?" He only half-way joked, still unsure how he'd ended up taking in Aragorn. Although it was a decision he'd never regretted.

Gandalf's face fell into stern lines as he immediately shook his head. "No, no. His family is large and yet quite loving from what I can gather."

"But he …needs us?" Elrond probed.

"Indeed." The headmaster acknowledged, but didn't expand on his explanation.

"Trouble?" The trustee sighed, knowing already that he would be giving in to this man whom he trusted so completely.

Gandalf pursed his lips. "No more so than any other fourteen year old, I believe."

Elrond's left eye twitched slightly. "I have raised four past the age of fourteen. I know that there is no such thing as a 'normal' teenager, nor is the amount of trouble they can find so small."

The gray haired headmaster bowed his head toward his friend and employer.

The peer sighed heavily. "You still have not explained why you are accepting both boys without interview, nor why they are so similar in name."

"I have not explained a great many things." Gandalf said with a secretive smile and bowed his head again as he moved to the door. Then he dropped his ace in the hole. "Lady Galadriel has already directed acceptance letters to be sent out."

Lord Elrond watched with sadly complacent eyes. He wasn't going to get an explanation. Not yet. It would irritate him more if it weren't for the fact that Gandalf was very rarely wrong. Add to that the fact that Galadriel was also on the other side of this question, and he was left unsure and wondering. But without much recourse. To himself he mentally shook his head and looked down at the applications before him. "Welcome to Camp Imladris." His eyes slid from picture to picture. "If these two aren't related in some way, I'd eat my hat."

From the door, Gandalf paused. "I think your hat may be safe for yet one more summer, my friend."

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

Thorin seemed annoyed.

Fili shifted his weight silently, but never leaving his center of balance uneven. Even if Dwalin didn't appear to be watching him, he'd found this particular cousin to be quite attentive to the smallest details. He started to think about giving a small cough, to let the adults know he'd entered the study.

"Damn him!" Thorin muttered, striking through some phrases or words on a document he was reading.

Definitely annoyed, Fili mused. He wondered if this was Smaug or Thranduil business. Both were an irritant to his uncle, though if it were Smaug there'd be more hatred and curse words involved. Probably their neighbor Thanduil then.

"Who does this Peredhel think he is?"

Fili's blue eyes widened a bit. Peredhel? New name to him.

"Thinks he's a peer. It's Lord Elrond Peredhel." Dwalin pointed out in his usual bored voice when business was about things that didn't involve returning to Erebor. "He's not in exile."

_Like we are_. Fili thought to himself. Though he himself had only seen old pictures of their one-time home.

Fili let his eyes roam over his uncle's well-appointed library, seeing the old tapestries from a kingdom they didn't reside in anymore. Not that he himself ever had, he was too young for memories of Erebor. He knew the stories, of course. Political coup. Deposing the rightful heir. By Smaug. King Smaug of the small, but rich, island nation of Erebor.

His uncle Thorin was the rightful ruler, now that his grandfather and father had passed. Possibly assassinated. But Smaug had control. In a world that was weary of wars and unwilling to help depose someone just because it was right. It was 1955 and the world was just overcoming many of the wounds caused by WWII and Korea.

Rumbles were coming out of Indochina now. Europe was nervous. The Soviet Union and eight communist bloc countries had just signed the Warsaw Pact not even a month ago.

No one cared about a relatively small island nation and its mountains, no matter how rich. Or about the deposed royal family. Smaug was king now, and Erebor had gone quiet. Quiet was good as far as the rest of the world was concerned.

"Fili."

His attention snapped back to his uncle, blue eyes watched cautiously.

"You need to pack for camp." Dwalin said, his eyes scanning some papers with a scary intensity.

Thorin grunted and Fili hesitated. "Uncle?" Camp? He knew the word from movies and books, but not personal experience. His summers were usually spent with family. He only started private school a few years ago anyway, having been taught by personal tutors for his early years.

"Thorin. Our resources are stretched. We can hire bodyguards, but I don't know them. Strangers, no matter how well vetted." Dwalin finally looked up, a fierce look in his warrior's eyes. "Camp Imladris has an excellent reputation for security. Very private, very elite."

The former prince from Erebor scowled, looking torn. "Still strangers." He commented.

Camp? Fili had never considered the possibility before. It would be better than skiing in Switzerland with his cousins and their loyal friends. All older than he. Not without fun, but the opportunity to be a normal teenager for once in his life seemed out of his reach. His fingers twitched and he deliberately stilled them, taking a deep cleansing breath.

Dwalin sighed. "I've been over the schematics and procedures that Peredhel sent. Seems quite well protected. Even has mystical barriers. Top notch at that."

Thorin made a face, but did not seem to be rejecting the possibility out of hand. "He won't allow me to add our own security."

Dwalin nodded. "I hate that too. But in Lord Peredhel's place, neither would I allow such a thing."

"Add security?" Fili's attention became hung up on those words. "Why?"

Thorin sighed and faced his heir. "There have been rumors of threats. I did not want to worry you."

"From Smaug?" He was never referred as King Smaug, not in this house.

Dwalin frowned deeply, his brow furrowing. "Mordor."

Fili looked shocked.

Thorin nodded carefully. "Erebor remains silent. But has allowed Mordor to house troops on the island. Not encroaching on the mountain, but still. On our island."

If Indochina made Europe nervous, Mordor made their skin crawl. "Does this mean we will be gaining allies?" The U.S., Britain, France, or anyone.

"No." Snapped Thorin angrily, but not at Fili. He shook his head. "Not yet. All I hear is 'not yet'. As long as Smaug remains quiet and makes no move to expand beyond Erebor the world is content to allow that deposer to inhabit the mountain."

"But with Mordor …" Fili let his voice trail off hopefully.

Dwalin shook his head, his fierce gaze heavy upon the crown prince of a non-existent throne. "Right now it's still confined to the island. Some are more willing to listen now, but will take no actions. Not yet."

The young blond teenager sighed and fidgeted a bit, then shook his head. "I don't get what this has to do with going to a camp for the summer."

Thorin waked over to his nephew, resting his hands on the lad's shoulders. "Fili. This camp is highly secure."

He got it. Suddenly the light went on in his head. "You're quarantining me for the summer!" Fili sounded appalled and disappointed.

Thorin chuckled. "I'm putting you somewhere safe. That is also fun and comes with a lengthy list of activities."

"Not only that, but you'll be networking with youth from some of the finest families in Europe and America." Dwalin pointed out.

"And fun." Thorin reiterated.

"And fun." The words fairly dripped like poison from Dwalin's lips.

It didn't sound fun to Fili. It sounded like a pretty prison. Unless. "Is it co-ed?"

"No." Dwalin said absently.

Fili sighed unhappily.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

"Camp?" Kili made a face at his Uncle Frerin. "No."

"You'll enjoy yourself." The sunny blond grinned and rumpled the irritated brunet's loose hair. "You didn't braid it."

"My teachers want me to cut it."

Frerin immediately frowned and shot a glance at his advisor, Balin. That worthy pursed his lips and shook his head. "We're from Erebor. Hair is a cultural prerogative of our line, important."

Kili rolled his expressive dark eyes. "They know. But we had a substitute for math and she called me a girl. The class all laughed."

Frerin laughed too, which didn't help much.

Kili scowled and pulled away, pushing his long wavy hair behind his ears. "Braids would only make me look more like a girl."

"Or a warrior of Erebor." Balin replied calmly.

"It's 1955 America. Not Erebor." Kili shook his hair, feeling it whip around his face. "My passport reads that I'm American, not from Erebor."

Hearing this made his uncle look sad and Kili was immediately apologetic. "I didn't mean that I'm not proud to be of Erebor." The young teen hurried to say.

"It's alright laddie." Balin replied with resignation. "We know you don't mean it. But please, no more talk of cutting your hair."

"I promise." Kili sat up straighter. "And I don't really want to cut it, I'm even trying hard to grow out my beard. It's just difficult to fit in at school with all the buzz cuts."

Frerin frowned rather thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should rethink your schooling."

Kili shrugged. He didn't really care. Unless … He glanced up quickly. "Can I go to school in L.A.?"

"No." Frerin and Balin said in unison.

The young brunet sighed, but had really expected that answer. His uncle was a stickler for security and L.A. was too big, too exposed. Isolated ranches in Montana and Colorado were much easier to contain.

Not that Smaug had ever made a move against him as far as Kili knew. "Los Angeles would be fun, if I ever got to see it."

"You live there." Balin said absolutely.

"Says you." Kili groused as he lounged in his seat, legs resting over the side of the chair's arm rest and kicking at the air. "All I get to see is the inside of the house. You don't even bring in any stars."

"They're just people." Frerin, the movie producer, said fondly. "Not someone as special as a prince like you."

Kili's eyebrows rose. Prince? Of a land he'd never set eyes on. And not even a throne he was technically in line for. There was his uncle Thorin out in Europe somewhere, and whom he'd never met. "Yeah, third in line. Behind a man you haven't spoken to in over a decade and you."

A shared look between Balin and Frerin had Kili closing his eyes in resignation. "Technically not third."

Frerin shot Balin an accusing look, but the white bearded advisor refused to meet his eyes.

Kili's head popped up in curiosity. "Thorin, Frerin, and then …not me?"

Balin sighed and finally met Frerin's hard gaze and nodded. "It's complicated. But Thorin has named his own line of succession."

Ah. Kili immediately lost interest. "So what's this about a camp and why do I want to go?"

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

**A/N: Plot bunnies attacked me. It's the only explanation. Technically this has a "Parent Trap" set-up, but I don't count it as a cross-over as it will not be following the movie much beyond the broad outline in the beginning. A few notes. There will be some magic in this world, which is 1955 modern AU - but no major magics. I have broken canon into teeny tiny pieces and I'm not even that sorry. If you find me vague on the geographic location of Mordor, Erebor and Camp Imladris it is on purpose. **

**For those who want to know, in London with Thorin will be: Fili, Dwalin, Nori, Oin, Bofur, as well as Thranduil, Legolas, and Tauriel. In America with Frerin will be: Kili, Dori, Balin, Gloin, Bombur, Ori and Bifer. No, I will not tell you where Bilbo is. Yet. :P**


	2. In which friendships might be made

"Do you have everything?" Oin asked, poking at the neatly folded clothing and personal items in the large travel trunk.

Fili shrugged. More often than not he found himself using gestures to answer the older physician's questions. Despite the state-of-the-art hearing aids, Oin didn't always wear them like he should. An issue of vanity. There was one type that could be worn like a wrist watch, with the wires going up the sleeve. But Oin was a warrior of Erebor. The movements of his blade practice always pulled the wires out of place.

There was another kind of ear piece. Smaller than had been available only a few years ago. But it was made to look like a woman's hair barrette with the wires hidden in a person's hair style. It came in colors to match hair, so it could be hidden within Oin's elaborate braids. It was just the IDEA of wearing a woman's hair barrette in his warrior's braids that set Oin off. He only wore it when absolutely necessary.

"Swim trunks, towels, grooming supplies, first aid …"

"They have a fully stocked medical facility on the island. Nori checked and Dwalin double-checked behind him. Made Nori furious." The blond grinned. "They're _discussing_ it now."

"Thank you for warning me." Oin bobbed his head up and down with a wry smile. "With them arguing, I'll take my hearing aids out before going downstairs then."

Fili caught the older physician looking over at the collection of finely crafted daggers laying on the blond's bed. Oin raised both eyebrows in question, mostly because he didn't have the knack for raising just one at a time like Thorin did. Laughing, the sixteen year old spread his hands in surrender. "No outside weapons allowed."

"Outside?"

"They offer fencing, archery, and unarmed combat training during camp. Of course Dwalin and Uncle Thorin signed me up for all of it." Fili grinned.

"And I'm sure that you haven't snuck a few hidden blades into your trunks?" Oin shook his head fondly, his heavily graying beard belying the sparkle of still youthful energy in his kind eyes. "Don't break the other campers, Fili my lad. You'll put them all to shame."

"Or get my ass handed to me." The blond quipped, but his face showed nothing but quiet arrogance. He did not expect to be bested, not at camp, and not anywhere else. Dwalin and Thorin were the only two still able to thump him, but not always.

"Doubtful." Oin chuckled. "Not with your instructors and all these years of fearsome practice."

"Not in archery." Fili pointed out far more quietly than his earlier comment.

Oin lost his smile, nodding thoughtfully. "Alright, you have me there. But it might be fun to pick up a new skill. Neither Dwalin or your uncle ever had that much skill with a bow, not like …" The physician's voice stopped abruptly, then he grimaced. "How about sailing? I saw that on the brochure."

Fili hadn't missed the pause, but didn't ask. Over the years there had been several such incidents. People left unnamed at the last moment, entire conversations turned away with awkwardness. The young teen had always assumed they were about people who'd died in the coup on Erebor. Many had. The list of names were read out loud every year at a somber feast of remembrance.

Out of respect for his elders and the other survivors from Erebor, Fili didn't pry. He himself had been born in England, child of a refugee princess and her husband.

Dis and Reneli.

"You've gone sad, my boy." Oin put his hand on the youth's shoulder in a comforting manner.

"It's nothing." Fili lied, smiling even though he didn't feel like it much. "Just need to finish packing." He didn't like to admit when feeling sad about the loss of his parents. The other Erebor exiles always took it too much to heart and would try to cheer him up. Their efforts were appreciated but often clumsy.

"You don't leave until tomorrow morning." The physician smiled and waved a hand at the old-fashioned leather bound trunks. "Everything is neatly folded and in its place. I doubt strongly that you've forgotten anything." He smiled wryly. "Even the blades you're not supposed to bring."

Fili shrugged and gave a rueful look at his uncle's long-time friend and supporter. "Just want to double check the lists, make sure and all."

"Well done, lad. Well done." Oin nodded proudly, pushing one of the traditional braids of Erebor behind the blond's ear. "You make us all proud you know. Very proud. A right proper prince you are."

After checking on a few more things, the physician finally took his leave. Fili closed the door carefully behind him. Silently. He looked at the large trunk and its smaller cousin. Packed full. Almost.

The blond listened for a moment. He couldn't lock the door, the rather ancient mechanism was loud and would give away the fact that he was doing something …well, not shameful, but not something he cared to advertise. Fili didn't hear any tell-tale creaks in the hallway indicating anyone walking his way.

The young prince-in-exile moved swiftly and quietly over to his dresser, finding the cleverly constructed hidden drawer with ease. He'd initially found it when he was seven, and completely by accident. Empty back then, it wasn't now. It was Fili's personal treasure trove. For holding things he didn't want the others to know about.

There was nothing shameful in his possessions. And no one was looking to take them from him. But …they were private.

Fili pulled out the single pearl set forever in a solid glass ball, a desk ornament. Thorin had found it years ago, and had gone white and then green in the face. Apparently it had belonged to his mother, something that Reneli had made for her.

Bofur had told the story about Dis and Reneli and the Yule party where they'd initially met. How Dis had been wearing traditional robes too heavy for her frame and she'd stumbled, making a grab to keep her balance on the stone steps. Her scrambling fingers had evidently found the waistcoat of a visiting Reneli, and his pearl buttons. Apparently he'd been too taken with the beautiful princess to care that he was missing a button all evening. Yet he'd returned to the garden after the formal event and had searched the area by lantern until he'd found the missing pearl and had placed it in glass. A forever kind of keepsake.

It was a sweetly sad story, considering that the two had only had a few short years to be truly happy following their whirlwind courtship and marriage.

Both had died young in a fiery automobile crash on a tour of America after only four short years together. In suspicious circumstances, and not too long after Thrain had been found dead of an apparent suicide. Fili knew Thorin suspected foul play in all three deaths.

All Fili had known for sure is …he wanted that ornament. But Thorin had seen the tears in his nephew's blue eyes and had ordered it stowed away in the safe. He'd thought it was too much for the still young Fili.

Sighing, the blond polished a non-existent smudge from the smooth glass. He'd usually been obedient enough, but that day he'd just not been able to let it all go. Fili smiled sadly as he remembered stealing the ornament from his uncle's desk and running away with it. Hiding it away in his newly found hidey hole.

Thorin had been furious when the ornament couldn't be found, and even angrier when Fili had refused to divulge where he'd hidden it. Dwalin had laughed and beamed with pride at the blond's stubborn streak and ingenuity.

Eventually Thorin had calmed and told Fili he could keep the ornament since it meant so much to him. But the blond had left it hidden, just in case. That was the first item in his secret stash. But not the last.

There was also a postcard written by his great-grandmother, so old the ink was fading but the picture showed an Erebor that did not exist anymore. A few other things over the years had been deemed worthy of being in his trove of treasures.

But the last item was special.

Fili pulled out the framed picture with great care. It was the only picture of his mother and father that he had.

There were other pictures, of course. Huge portraits even. But this one was special. It was an unposed snapshot of a laughing couple at some informal event. You could tell because his parents weren't wearing jewels or medals or evening wear. This was just another set of young lovers who were laughing at something one of them had said, or seen, or done. It didn't matter. It was perfect, and it was his.

All the other pictures were hung or displayed throughout the home Thorin had built for them all. But none belonged just to Fili. Except this one. His uncle had seen it once and had grown sad, but not angry. He'd even made the silver frame specifically for Fili to put the picture in. Thorin had even apologized for the lack of more pictures or albums, mumbling something about having lost most of them when packing up Dis and Reneli's things to bring back to Britain. He'd looked embarrassed at the lack, as if Fili had every right to blame him for the loss. So of course the blond had immediately forgiven his uncle, but he'd held on to this one picture all the harder because of that lack.

Fili sighed and walked over to his trunks, putting the picture most carefully inside, wrapped in a sweatshirt. Why the sudden urge to take it with him, he didn't know. But it was making the trip to camp with him and that was just fine.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

"What do you mean you're already packed?" Kili goggled at his companion. "We don't leave until tomorrow!"

Ori Rison sighed heavily and threw up his hands in defeat. "I am not packing your trunks for you!"

"Didn't ask you to do it." Kili barked without heat in his words, acting insulted by the very suggestion.

"Well I didn't ask to go to camp this summer!" Ori said snippily. "I had other plans!"

The young brunet had the grace to mutter an apology even as he shook his head. "Not my fault."

Ori relented and gave the dark-eyed youth a sympathetic look. "Look, we all know you're not exactly happy about this whole camp business. You tried every argument you could to get out of it. Even going to your Uncle Frerin and complaining you wouldn't know a soul there."

"How was I to know he'd offer you a chance to join me?" Kili sighed, looking heavenward. "Or that Dori would think it a grand adventure for you. Expand your horizons as it were."

"Now I don't get to do my internship in New York." Ori complained. "Instead I get to babysit you."

"You're younger than me!" Kili protested rather weakly.

Ori grinned. "Only by a year, and we're in the same grade."

Kili mumbled darkly, aware that his friend had skipped a grade early on. Then again, Ori was big on academics but was a bit naïve about life in general. Kili often had to look out for him, which he didn't mind. He was genuinely fond of his friend. "You know, it isn't a real internship. More like dogging the shadow of someone else."

"A real New York journalist." Ori supplied with a deep sigh and a look of complete dejection. Speaking of a friend of his older brother who had agreed to let him visit the city and get an idea of what a real journalist did. All cancelled now, of course.

"I'm sorry." Kili supplied, looking the part. He really was sorry to have interrupted his friend's grand plans.

Ori made a face. "Not really your fault. Dori was already upset." He looked over at his friend's questioning look. "I got another letter."

The dark-eyed youth grimaced and nodded. Periodically Ori would get a letter from the black sheep of the Rison family, Nori. "Have you written back?"

Ori nodded. Dori might be upset over the contact, but he had never tried to keep his younger sibling from responding. "Nori avoids political talk and keeps it light. As long as I write back the same way, then Dori is fine with it. Mostly."

Kili nodded again. An old story. Nori was with Thorin in London while Dori was here in America with Frerin. Both sides bitterly divided on the subject of Erebor. "I wish they'd all start talking again. I have relatives I've never even met!"

Ori nodded rather wistfully. "My brother for one."

"Frerin insists that I call Thorin my uncle. But I've never even talked to the man, much less seen him! And Balin sometimes tells the best stories about his brother and his fighting prowess. Have we ever gotten a chance to meet him? No."

The scent of something grilling wafted over the area and Ori took an appreciative sniff. "We have Bombur though."

Kili laughed, throwing back his head in great enjoyment. "Definitely. And you know? That means we win. London can keep Thorin and the others. We have Bombur. Think he baked today?"

Still laughing, the two headed in mutual accord toward the delicious smells of good food. Ori hip-checked his friend though as they walked. "I'm still not packing for you."

Kili groaned even through his laughter.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

Lord Elrond Peredhel pushed his lengthy hair behind his ears as he perused the multitude of lists in preparation for the beginning of a new camping season.

Lindir waited patiently beside his employer's antique desk, his usual calm demeanor ever present.

"Everything appears to be in order." Elrond commented slowly, missing no detail. Until his eyes halted on a particular sheet. He frowned slowly. "Lindir?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"He has not agreed to sell?" Elrond's tone of voice rose to near incredulousness. "We offered three times what that property is worth."

Lindir bowed slightly, a soft rose blush tinting his smooth face. "He is quite pleasant and makes the best tea and scones. He listens politely, and is most gracious when I visit."

"But won't sell." Elrond sighed, closing his eyes in agitation.

"He won't sell." Lindir agreed. He paused, unsure. "Gandalf came by the last time I was there. The two seemed old friends."

Surprised, Elrond's eyes opened and he turned toward his aide. "Indeed? Now. That is news."

"So I took the liberty of asking Gandalf if he might be persuaded to assist in convincing the man to sell." Lindir shrugged helplessly.

"He refused?" This did truly surprise the British peer.

"No." Lindir admitted. "But Gandalf talked in such circles that I'm not sure that I even remember the original question, much less his answer."

"Ah." Elrond nodded, putting a mental mark on the subject. He'd have to speak with Gandalf on the matter at a later time.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

Fili watched the limousine pull away. It was a private vehicle, driven by Bofur for the day. Security. The blond could remember when the family hardly had been able to scratch up enough for a taxi fare. Now they had fleets of cars.

The loss of Erebor had struck deep. Not only at the loss of prestige, but the loss of monies as well. There had been some foreign investments, but Thorin hadn't immediately had access. That had belonged to Thror and then Thrain. Getting the legalities sorted out, especially after the deaths of those worthies, had been difficult.

Thorin was barely out of university and struggling to support not only himself, but a very young Fili and the rest of their people. His uncle had a keen sense of duty and provided for as many as he could manage, and then some.

Fili's needs always came first though.

The blond sighed, thinking of his upcoming summer. Sometimes he wished his uncle didn't protect him quite so …thoroughly. An exile in further exile. Away from family for the …well, for the first time ever. The sixteen year old reached to help the porter with his trunk. The porter seemed surprised, shocked even. But Thorin didn't protest. He wasn't one to stand on ceremony.

No spoiled heirs here.

"Are you done pouting?" Thorin commented as he manhandled the smaller trunk on his own.

If the porters were unused to rich young clients carrying their own luggage, it was nothing on the shock of seeing even richer men do for themselves.

"Not pouting." Fili said glumly. "I just don't see why I need to be sent away. I'm safe enough at home."

"Things are happening." Thorin tried to explain yet again. "Dwalin and the others need to concentrate on our objective. And there have been threats against you."

"There are always threats." Fili pointed out rather calmly. "And you yourself said these were vague."

"Tell that to Jose Antonio Remon Cantera." Thorin said calmly, not even looking at his young nephew as his eyes scanned the area carefully.

Fili rolled his own eyes at the mention of the assassination of Panama's president earlier this year. "Never even heard of him until someone shot him."

"Think how famous you'd be if someone killed you. And how upset I would be." Thorin quirked his mouth into a half-smile. "Shot by machine gun fire at a racetrack."

"So I'll avoid racetracks."

"Fili! Don't be so damned flippant. You are not invincible. And I need to know you're safe this summer."

Fili quieted as his uncle's voice took on a harshness he hadn't heard for a while. Thorin was really worried? "How vague are these threats?"

"Too vague. But possibly credible." Thorin sighed heavily. "Camp Imladris is on an island, hard to access from the outside without clearance. And Lord Peredhel is a practitioner."

This startled the young heir. "You hate practitioners." He said of those who used the mystic arts even in this day of science. They were usually lean, tall and long haired though no one could say why exactly. They were the only ones who grew their hair longer than the natives of Erebor really.

"I hate Thranduil." Thorin spat out the name as if it tasted of bitter bile. "Peredhel is a necessary evil."

"Without being actually evil." Dwalin chimed as he overheard the last comment while joining them. "And watch yourselves. He's here."

Thorin jerked to a stop, staring at his head of security and life-long friend. "Who's here? Thranduil?"

Dwalin twitched his head slightly to the left and behind them. Thorin turned and immediately started scowling. "What is he doing here?"

"This is the airport." Fili said with a slight yawn.

"Private field." Thorin countered irritably.

In silence, the three exiles from Erebor waited. And waited. Thranduil stopped, speaking to the young male next to him and appearing in no hurry to approach. Finally, he seemed to give up enough and walked toward them all.

"Durinson."

"Greenleaf."

"Lord Greenleaf." Thranduil corrected haughtily.

"King Durinson." Thorin scowled heavily.

"Not quite as yet." The tall blond said silkily, reminding the dark-haired prince he hadn't been crowned yet and was actually without a throne.

Fili and the other young male standing next to Thranduil shared a disgusted look at the antics of the so-called adults.

"Camp?" Fili asked, looking at the large trunks that two servants were loading onto a hand cart.

"Imladris." The other youth nodded smoothly.

"Me too." Fili nodded back. "My first time."

"Fifth." The other lad said with a small twisted smile. "Legolas."

"Fili."

"I know. I've heard of you." The taller and leaner blond spoke quietly.

Fili couldn't say the same. He'd had no idea that Thranduil had a son. If he was a son. Could be a nephew, like him.

"Now isn't this pleasant?" Thranduil's words were correct, but his tone made a mockery of his politeness.

Thorin rather choked and said something under his breath.

Thanduil drew back, clearly affronted.

Legolas looked at Fili and Fili looked at Legolas. They weighed each other carefully. Finally the older of the two boys gave a small smile. "I know where they hide the fizzy drinks."

Fili weighed his options carefully. He glanced at his still engaged uncle who was arguing some random point with Thranduil. He then turned his eyes on Dwalin who gave him a small nod as a go ahead. "Sure."

The two blonds left the squabbling adults behind.

"Your father?" Fili asked quietly.

"Unfortunately." Legolas joked. "Most days he's alright. But something about your dad sets him off."

"Uncle. My father died years ago." Fili corrected, able to say the words without sinking into despair anymore.

"Sorry." The taller blond made an apologetic face.

"Your dad sets my Uncle Thorin off too." Fili offered.

"Thorin?" Legolas laughed as they ducked into an open hangar, bypassing the small plane housed there. "I've heard that name a time or two." He stopped in front of a small refrigerator, pulling out two sweetened carbonated drinks with a familiar red logo on the glass bottles.

Fili looked over his taller companion's long hair. "You practice?"

Legolas made a face. "My whole family. Who are all better than I am by far." He stilled, then shrugged. "There are those who are still angry that he closed his borders during the war rather than helping more. He helped some of course, but there are those who say it wasn't enough."

Click. Fili grimaced. That fit with some of the insults thrown at Thranduil by Thorin over the years. "Isolationist."

Legolas shrugged helplessly. He eyed Fili's hair. It was long, but not kept straight like a practitioner. And it held braids. "Erebor?" He guessed.

Fili nodded. "So, what's camp like?"

"All male, which is horrid." Legolas admitted. "I wanted to go to the South of France this year."

Fili grinned into his drink, taking a long sip. "Bikinis?"

"Only seen them in a few pictures." The taller blond admitted with a wink, thinking especially of the gorgeous Bridget Bardot.

"Me too." Fili admitted with a sigh. "Spent last summer in Switzerland. Trust me. No bikinis there. Nori got me a set of playing cards though, each picture is something."

Legolas laughed and nodded. "Had a set. My father confiscated it two months ago. Says he burned them, but I have my doubts." He joked.

"Tell me about the camp." Fili asked.

The taller blond shrugged. "Not too bad. Food is alright. Other kids are a trial though."

Fili made a face and took another long sip of his drink, it was tickling his nose.

Legolas paused, eying the other boy. "My last roommates made fun of my hair a lot."

"I get that too." Fili admitted. "Not much though. Private tutors mostly. Also from Erebor."

"Lucky." Legolas mused. "Want to share a room?"

"Aren't rooms already assigned?" Fili knew he'd gotten a card in the mail with a couple of names. Jonas and Butch. Something like that.

Legolas sneered. "That's nothing. We can get Gandalf to switch us out. Easy as pie. I have one decent friend there and he'll be glad to meet you. That'll make our cabin pretty cool. His name is Beorn. Almost eighteen, but he's really quiet. Big. Not much intimidates him and he's never made fun of my hair."

Fili nodded carefully. "Your father and my uncle will hate the idea." He suddenly grinned. "Alright. If you think we should."

The two fell silent but clicked their nearly empty fizzy bottles together in solidarity.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

**A/N: Yes, I have played with ages and all sorts of things. Don't expect this to follow canon for the most part. Some, but not a lot. If you have questions, I will be glad to answer. Thank you!**


	3. In which there is a meeting of sorts

"Cast an eyeball at the two bundies! I thought for sure they were paper shakers for a minute, what with all the hair!" The huge guffawing laugh from the buzz-cut American echoed through the waiting area.

Fili rolled his eyes in the direction of the well dressed, if ill-mannered youth. The three teens were large, raw-boned and expensively accompanied by a gentleman who ignored them while smoking his pipe and reading a paper. "Father?"

"Lackey." Legolas assessed the fellow for half a second before pronouncing him unimportant. "What's with the American slang? Bundies and paper shakers? They're speaking the Common tongue, but have stretched it so far that it's nearly broken."

"They're making fun of our hair." Fili stretched languidly. "Though I have no idea what their words mean, I can tell their meaning well enough. I could knock them all out in under fifteen seconds."

"They're all bigger than you." Legolas pointed out languidly.

Fili shrugged without concern.

"I'd wager on you, Erebor." The blond gave him a wry smile. "That isn't cotton padding underneath that natty jacket you've got tailored. Though I'd put the odds at least 45 seconds."

The blond laughed quietly and shrugged. "About the length of time that Milburn took to score."

Legolas sat up quickly, instantly cheerful. "Were you there? Did you see?" He asked excitedly about the recent Wembley Cup where Newcastle United had taken on and defeated Manchester City.

Fili groaned in dejection, his eyes pleading. "Oh don't tell me you got to go! My Uncle Thorin wouldn't let me near! We were at a 'retreat'. Read into that, we were training to retake our homeland. Again."

Legolas' mouth twisted in wry humor. "I had to settle for listening on the wireless. We were at a family gathering, read photo opportunity. Father needs the goodwill, and my sister is blooming gorgeous."

"You have a gorgeous sister? How long is HER hair?!" Crowed one of the lads over by the cigarette machine, thumping it so hard the packs all rattled on the inside. He looked to his friends for confirmation of his own brilliance, and they all laughed.

"Ignore ignorance." Whispered Legolas.

"How long is her hair?" Fili asked out of curiosity.

"I'm protective of my sister, watch it mate." The blond hissed, then relented enough to smile. "It hits near her waistline. Red. Brilliant ginger. She has freckles too, thinks it makes her plain. It doesn't."

Gorgeous the sister might be, but she wasn't here. Besides, Fili knew himself to be completely awkward around ladies. So he changed the subject. "When is that blasted ferry supposed to get here?" He asked, glancing at the chalk board with the times listed on it. But it seemed those times were merely a fiction, a suggestion and nowhere near a reality.

"Blame Mr. Masters." Legolas pointed up at the portrait of the Lake Town mayor, a corpulent looking idiot regardless of his rich clothing and smirking smile. "There used to be more ferrymen and better equipment, but their budget has been trimmed to the bone. Now there's only three left. But Lord Elrond only trusts Bard Bowman to ferry his campers. So we're stuck until the ferry returns."

"Why doesn't Peredhel just purchase his own ferry?" Fili asked, ignoring the milling about of the other people in the waiting area. Most were campers like he and Legolas. But a few were obviously in trade, and even a few local families it seemed.

"Town charter won't allow it. More the pity." Legolas shrugged. "I hate politics. My father thrives on it though. Says the thrill of it all keeps him forever young." The blond yawned, and stretched. "Could do with some tea. That fizzy was a while ago."

Fili, who had not appeared to be paying attention, straightened a bit. He'd kept a keen eye on everyone entering and leaving the area. A hold over from training with Thorin and Mr. Dwalin for all of his young life. "We're not the only ones with hair issues."

Legolas, used to being the only mystical practitioner, glanced up immediately. His keen eyes fell on the two newcomers and then he grimaced. "Eomer and Boromir. Well, the Rohiran is alright if a bit stuffy. The other is from Gondor and …well, okay he's fine too. But they stick together for the most part and don't trust practitioners much."

Gondor and Rohan? Fili blinked rapidly and inspected the duo, they were tall and strong looking. Not like the clean-cut campers surrounding them though. These two carried themselves with a casual ease, and a sense of power held in check by their own will alone. He approved instantly. Then he frowned. "They look old enough to carry proof." He said, referring to identification needed in order to buy alcohol.

"They are." Legolas pursed his lips. "Counselors at Imladris, they used to be campers years ago." Then he straightened. "New blood."

Another young male walked in behind the duo. He didn't have that casual air of arrogance or power, but seemed to be literally and figuratively in the shadow of the male from Gondor.

Eomer caught sight of the duo sitting on their trunks and nudged his companion. Boromir nodded and smiled, pointing to the younger male who tripped over his shoelaces, but somehow managed to stay upright. The teen blushed, but nodded in return. He walked over toward Legolas and Fili, but his eyes didn't rise to meet theirs.

"Faramir." He mumbled with a small bow.

Legolas silently indicated the pile of luggage as if to say 'join us'. The young Faramir smiled gratefully, even if his expression didn't lighten his tight features much. "Brother?" He finally asked, pointing with his chin toward Boromir. "Haven't met you before. I'm Legolas, and this is Fili."

"My first year. My …" There was a brief hesitation. "My father didn't think I was ready for …anyway, my brother finally convinced him and here I am."

Fili nodded. Faramir had explained exactly nothing, but even his evasions were very telling. He winced at the lack of self-confidence in the young man from Gondor.

"Another bundie!" Loud laughter and pointed fingers drew and exasperated look from Legolas.

"I won't give him the satisfaction, but I'm not even sure what a bundie is." Fili pronounced with a small shake of his head.

"A boy who needs a haircut." Faramir said, then winced. "Not that I think that. Being from Gondor and all." He fluffed his own less than short hair.

"What's a paper shaker?" Legolas asked next.

"Cheerleader." Faramir translated for them. He glanced shyly at Fili, and his distinctive braids. "Never met anyone from Erebor before."

"We're rather scattered." Came the bland response.

Color fled from Faramir's face and he stuttered over his apology.

Fili grimaced and shook his head, holding up his hands. "I didn't mean …nevermind. Sit down. We were discussing the need of tea."

"Or fizzy." Legolas added, then frowned. "Ale."

Faramir frowned. "Thirteen." He pronounced his young age.

Fili grinned. "Ale for us and a fizzy for you?"

"Then let us go in search!" Legolas stood up with alacrity, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Fili groaned, laughing. "I'm too young at sixteen, and …."

"Laws are different in Lake Town." Legolas announced with a silly grin. "Sixteen is just right."

Fili's blue eyes rounded with shock. "Really?"

"No, you fool." Legolas swatted his new friend on the shoulder. "But I do know that we can get a spot of tea in the café."

"Fore!"

That yelled word was the only warning before a young brunet barreled into the group, knocking Faramir into an alarmed Fili. Legolas leapt backwards and up, landing on his trunk and marvelously managing not to fall over.

"Watch what you're doing!" Fili growled.

"I am, I am!" A young and enthusiastic voice assured him. A very American voice with a neutral accent. "I yelled fore!"

Fili was a bit shocked to see the hint of a beard that hadn't really begun to grow yet and overly long hair. It was wavy and pinned back, but with no visible braids. He didn't have the feel of a practitioner like Legolas. Another male from either Gondor or Rohan perhaps?

"Fore is the proper warning …in golf." Legolas sounded a bit cross, his frosty eyes on the oddly shaped ball in the youth's hands. "That is not a golf ball."

"Football!" The young male said with a wide and engaging grin. Then the brunet stiffened tautly, staring at him strangely.

"That is no football." Fili stepped out in front of the newcomer. Something about him seemed familiar, but that was next to impossible. The brunet stepped back, suddenly wary.

"Okay. American football. Not like your round punk-ball and fancy footwork." The brunet thumped his chest which was currently emblazoned with the name of a team called the L.A. Rams. "We're going to the Superbowl this year. I'm cranked!"

"Cranky?" Faramir sounded completely lost.

"Excited!" The brunet explained good-naturedly. "Want to jump on board?" He tossed the weirdly shaped ball to Faramir, who despite his appearance of clumsiness, caught it with ease.

Fili watched Faramir smile and nod, running off with the rather silly American. He then froze. The two joined a third young male, and this one had braids. Someone from Erebor? "Hey! Come back! I want to talk to you!"

The three took off toward the other end of the space allotted for waiting for the ferry. Fili frowned and glanced at Legolas.

The blond shrugged helplessly. "Did you insult them?"

Fili shrugged. "Is it just me, or did they ignore me?"

"Ran from you." Legolas sounded a bit too amused. "Warrior."

"I didn't do anything!" Fili complained.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

"Friends of yours?" Kili asked his new acquaintance from Gondor.

Faramir shook his head and shrugged. "My brother said to hang with the blond, that for a practitioner he wasn't too bad and wouldn't be a bully."

Kili bit his lip and glanced nervously over at the young man clearly from Erebor. Bearded, though it was a bit short. Mustache braids though, already. And those BRAIDS. Warrior braids. He hunched his shoulders, a bit ashamed that his had all fallen out on the flight from home and he hadn't bothered to put them back in.

Ori shook his head, looking worried. "You said he had an English accent?"

"Yes." Kili nodded emphatically, looking to Faramir for support. The younger male nodded as well. "Wouldn't that be a goopy situation?"

Ori sighed unhappily. "Frerin always said to run from anyone from Erebor spouting an English accent. But how do we do that when we're all going to be on the same island?"

"Need to call Uncle Frerin." Kili licked his lips rather nervously. He looked around, and spied an obviously broken payphone. "Drat."

Ori then poked him in the shoulder and Kili spun to look where his friend was pointing. Another phone. The young brunet took off forward, hurrying. But when he picked up the handset, there was no dial tone. "But what if there's an emergency?" He whinged.

"You need a phone young sir?" A very tall and broad shouldered stranger peered down at him in a kindly manner. "My brothers and I run a restaurant across the street. We could let you use our phone."

Kili paused, torn. Strangers were not to be trusted. He peeked over at the braided blond once more. English accented strangers with ties to Erebor were to be avoided at all costs. Though his Uncle Frerin had never quite explained why. What choice did he have? "Long distance." He murmured.

"Never you mind that, lad." The big man chuckled. "Be glad to help out in an emergency, you see?" He held out a giant mitt of a hand. "My name is Tom, my brothers are Bert and William. And no worries about going far. We're just across the street from here."

The need to stay put as told warred with the need to inform his uncle of the presence of strangers also descended from Erebor. Then again, Frerin hadn't ever told him WHY he should be so worried. Kili moaned.

"Your friends can stay here." Tom said with a gentle smile, gesturing to both Ori and Faramir. "Or they can come with you if it makes you feel safer."

"I'm not leaving you." Ori avowed, poking out his chin rather stubbornly.

Faramir looked uneasy, but shrugged. "Why not? It's just across the street."

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

Fili frowned, watching the odd trio follow the large balding man. He tensed as they went right out the door. "Legolas?"

The blond frowned. "They aren't supposed to leave the area. But …if we tell, they're in trouble and we're tagged as tell-tales. And if we go after them, we've left the area too."

Fili groaned, unsure of what to do.


	4. In which there are trolls (of a kind)

"Gondor?" The opinion was offered hesitantly, as if the speaker wasn't sure of his own guess.

Legolas tightened his lips, peering out the dirty window of the ferry waiting area at the trio of young campers out where they weren't supposed to be. Finally, he shook his head. He did not have to ask whom his new friend was talking about. Faramir had already admitted to being Boromir's younger sibling. And the nervous looking one wore braids, clearly demonstrating his allegiances. But the brunet with was a mystery. "Not tall enough for Gondor I would hazard to guess. Are you sure he's not from Erebor stock like you? Then again, for your nationality he's actually a little tall."

Fili shrugged unhappily and didn't bother to comment on the jibe about his height. Those from Ereborean stock were huskier of build than say Rohan or Gondor, but shorter generally. "No braids. And he's younger than we are, it could be that he's just not had his growth spurt yet. He could be from Gondor."

"Doesn't move like someone from Rohan." Legolas mused aloud, his eyes speculative.

"I've never met anyone from Rohan before." Fili admitted quietly, his frown sharpening as he saw the trio wait for traffic to clear before starting to trot across the street. "Do they even know that man?"

"Man?" Legolas snorted rather haughtily. "He looks more like a troll to me."

Fili sniggered and shook his head. "Cruel." Though he didn't disagree.

The blond practitioner shrugged, mostly unrepentant. "If trolls were real, that's what they'd look like." Suddenly he stiffened. "Do trolls come in threes?"

Blue eyes moved immediately to the dilapidated building across the street, right where the three campers were heading. There were two more males standing there. Equally as huge and solidly built as the first one. "Forget trolls, they're giants."

"I don't like the look of this." Legolas shifted his weight uneasily, watching as the three laughing campers seemed to hesitate, possibly sensing wrong. "Don't do it, come back." He whispered, even though they couldn't hear him.

"We have to tell someone?" It was a question, not a statement.

The blond winced. "I've been here for five summers, you may depend upon my word that if we get a reputation for running to the counselors and telling on others? We'd be bad news."

Fili looked around, feeling antsy and wanting to DO something. The young brunet had annoyed him a little. A bit brash and maybe reckless. But he didn't want anyone to come to grief either, brat or not. He peered across the street as the one he was thinking about suddenly threw back his head and laughed easily at something said. That wild mirth made Fili's frown deepen as he grunted. "Definitely reckless. They're going in with them!" He clapped a hand on Legolas' shoulder.

Legolas turned and scanned the area. "All the adults are over there, dealing."

Fili followed the other blond's gaze, grimacing to see a crying young camper and a hand-cart turned over. Trunk spilt open and personal items everywhere. All attention was in that direction. The only one sitting close to them looked like a young, curly haired child curled up in his coat and taking a nap on the bench. "Damn."

Legolas rolled his shoulders. "Feel like bearding three trolls in their den and rescuing reckless fools?" He smiled dangerously.

"Are you unarmed?" Fili prodded, liking his new friend but still cautious. This was Thranduil's son after all.

"I'm a practitioner! That means I'm never unarmed, even when I have no weapons." Legolas winked, his smile turning into a smirk. "The camp wards keep me from using mystical stuff in here. But those wards don't expand out past the ferry areas."

"You have offensive magics?" Fili asked, his blue eyes widening in appreciation. He was under the impression that only very high level practitioners could do such things.

Legolas suddenly deflated with a self-depreciating grin replacing his arrogance. "No. Not yet. But I can distract really well!" He leaned in to whisper. "And I go nowhere unarmed." He patted his side in a manner suggesting he had something sheathed there.

Weapons were prohibited at Camp Imladris, except for those provided for their activities. Nothing could be brought from home.

That was the way it was supposed to be anyway.

Fili grinned, winked back and simply said. "Let's go rescue the fools." It was his way of saying that he wasn't unarmed either. He didn't bother patting his weapons though. There were too many. Being of Erebor meant he had enemies. Being of Erebor had once been mighty and wondrous, but that was before Smaug. Before exile. He'd been raised in Britain, and felt at home there. But Fili never forgot his true place, even if he'd never seen it before.

The taller boy nodded happily, then shook his head. "They might not actually need rescuing you realize?"

"They're still fools and shouldn't have left." Fili grunted, eyes scanning the area. No adults watching them. He cocked his head to the side and made a gesture for silence, pointing at the sleeping child close to them. Both blonds carefully made their way out the smaller side door with the broken latch.

From tolerably near their area which the two blonds had just vacated, there was a scritch of a sound. A coat moved slightly and two bright eyes blinked open from where their owner had closed them for a pleasant little cat-nap while waiting for the local ferry.

The man was on the smallish side. Childlike and almost tiny in comparison to …well, most everyone else. His features were pleasant and jovial looking, hiding a highly intelligent mind. But he was definitely no juvenile.

He sighed. His highly intelligent mind was telling him to mind his own business. "This isn't on you." He muttered to himself. Still, he was standing before he knew it, straightening his waistcoat and patting every pocket to assure himself that everything was in order. His fingers absently straightened his handkerchief.

Being in order was very important to Mr. Baggins. Bilbo Baggins of …. "Oh drat it all." The short fellow murmured. He was having difficulties naming his new home. Thinking of his comfortable abode and it's very full pantry culled a smile from his lips.

Camp Imladris was located on an island, taking most of the property. The locals called it Rivendell though, always had it seemed.

Bilbo wasn't a local.

His new home had been won, er …stolen, from someone. Someone who had stolen from a lot of other people. So Bilbo had freed it, and many other things. He'd turned over most of it back to the rightful owners, taking a large percentage of profit, of course. He was the grandson of the brilliant and slippery, never-caught Great Took. Still. Of all he'd acquired, that single property had held no records of who had owned it previously and Bilbo, upon inspecting the place, had simply fallen in love.

Since he already had it, he might as well just keep it. It's what proper burglars did, wasn't it?

Rivendell or Imladris, whatever you called it …called to him on a very basic level. It was peace. It was home. It was …still unnamed. "Drat and double drat." Bilbo sniffed and looked for his shoes. Where had the blasted things gone? He looked up and out the window, seeing the two conspiring blond tow-heads hurrying across the street against the lights.

No help for it. He slipped barefoot out the side door. Unseen. He was good at unseen.

Bilbo shook his head mentally, wondering why he was going to rescue five silly teenagers. Awful things, teens. In his experience no one was even slightly interesting until they turned thirty-three at the very least. Old enough to garner some life experiences, and young enough to still do something about it. And yet these youths appealed to something in him. The two blonds had proven to be protective minded at the very least, if a bit reckless. Though not as reckless as the original three, going off with a stranger like that.

Bilbo turned and looked back inside the ferry waiting area. He was supposed to have met Gandalf here. But the tall headmaster had his own sense of time that the world did not seem to recognize.

"Fool." Bilbo muttered, wondering if he was describing Gandalf or the teens. Most likely, he mused a bit sardonically as he crossed the street, himself.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

"This doesn't smell like a café." Faramir said hesitantly, obviously nervous.

Kili nodded, his hand moving into a silent hand signal to be on alert. Ori signaled he understood. The young teen from Gondor did not. The brunet kept his expression light, although inwardly he was cursing. "I think we need to get back before we're missed." He said with a bright laugh.

"What about your phone call young master?" Asked Tom genially.

"I'm fine. I was just being a bit silly." Kili spread his hands as he stopped shy of entering the run-down premises. "Homesick already, can you believe?" He asked rhetorically.

Tom's eyes narrowed and his jovial expression turned sinister. "No." He obviously had some moves on him, for he didn't reach for either Kili or Ori, but grabbed the youngest.

To his credit Faramir made no sound, nor did he freeze up. The youth from Gondor reached back and jabbed his fingers instinctively at Tom's eyes. Shocked he might be, but he was obviously also well trained in defense.

Unfortunately, so was Tom. He growled, and kicked open the door of the building and all but threw young Faramir through to the interior.

Kili flashed another silent hand signal for Ori to get help, and his friend obeyed instantly. The young brunet tackled Tom around the knees, trying to bring the much heavier and taller opponent down and give his friend a chance to get away.

Eyes streaming from Faramir's attack, Tom reached down and grabbed a handful of Kili's dark hair, yanking him up painfully. Without regard to anything, the tall man started to drag the teen inside. He stumbled as Kili's hidden blade suddenly became un-hidden and sliced into his heavily muscled thigh.

With a shout, Tom threw Kili inside the building. The dark haired young male rolled and sprang up immediately, his eyes taking a second or two in order to adjust to the dim lighting after being outside in the afternoon sunlight.

What he saw made him pale.

Faramir was being held suspended in the air between two men even bigger than Tom! He gritted his teeth and attacked, darting forward with his blade.

"Stop, or we tear him in two."

Faramir's eyes were wide, but he still made not sound. His mouth was set grimly, but anger not fear shone from his eyes.

Kili froze in place. Hopefully Ori wouldn't be long in bringing aid. "Drop him or else!"

"Or else what?" One of the two giant-sized men sneered. Was this Bert or William? Kili snorted. As if that even mattered at this point.

Suddenly from behind him came the sound of something big hitting the floor. Kili's dark eyes widened as from either side of him came two blond blurs. He was quick to join in the attack, even as he recognized the two older campers from earlier. Worries he might have about them, but that was nothing compared to the immediate danger.

Blades flashed and blood dripped as William and Bert were forced into dropping young Faramir. The youth from Gondor was quick to retaliate, springing into action himself. The four of them weaved through the area looking to make a quick getaway.

As if on some silent internal cue, they ran toward the exit only to draw up short as Tom stood there, outline by the much brighter sunlight outside. Disconcertingly, he was grinning. He brought one large hand out and dropped a stone on the floor which immediately started glowing a sickly green.

Legolas ceased moving, staring in awe and even with a hint of fear. "Wards." He hissed, meaning that he could no longer work magic within the boundaries set up by the mystic wards that Tom had just activated. "And a spell of containment, the door is blocked now!"

"Well. You all belong to us now, and we're going to be handing you on to someone much, much darker. What he wants with you I couldn't even dare to guess."

"Which one of us?" Fili asked boldly.

Tom grinned evilly and shrugged, declining to answer. "Does it matter? We're sending you all on. He could filet and eat you for all we care."

"Spice you up with some nutmeg." One of his brothers quipped.

"Naw, Bill. Roasted with plain salt and pepper. You never season things up proper." The other brother spoke up in a surprisingly high voice for one so large.

Kili's mouth dropped open in disgust.

Fili yelled out something harsh in Khuzdul without thinking, telling the younger boys not to be tricked by foolishness and calling them idiots.

Faramir and Legolas both didn't even blink, although the blond's mouth tightened. "I assume you realize we don't understand you!"

Fili flushed while the young brunet sent him a withering glare of disdain, taking offense.

"Now, now. The killing may be easy enough, but if you don't do it in the proper manner it ruins the taste of the meat."

The calm, collected voice startled them all. Everyone spun, staring at the diminutive male who had somehow come in the back way and appeared the very picture of sanguine languidness.

"Who be you?" Tom demanded roughly.

The stranger blinked slowly, then tutted his tongue and shook his head as if monstrously saddened. "If your grammar skills are as fine as your culinary skills I lament for your meals, you must truly be horrid chefs."

The broadest of the three huffed and groaned in confusion. "Huh?"

"He says you can't cook, Bert."

Bert, for apparently the broadest of them was he, seemed hurt by the comment. His hand went to his heart, inadvertently smearing blood from a shallow cut that Kili had managed to land. "Has him tried my cooking?"

"He." The stranger closed his eyes and shuddered. "Has HE tried my cooking?"

"Er …no. Don't think we're acquainted." Bert offered, still looking confused. "So I don't think I've had any of your cooking."

"Oh dear. Wasted wit is a lamentable thing. By the way, the door's not warded anymore. You boys scamper on back to the ferry now. Good lads. Don't want to worry the counselors." The strange little man said with a small smile.

Tom straightened, looking startled. He glanced down at the mystic ward he'd used. His eyes rounded with alarm to see that it was no longer glowing any color at all. "But …"

Bert growled, shaking his massive bald head. "Never you mind! Even without the ward Tom will be able to stop them from getting away!"

The stranger tossed something into the middle of the room, where it flashed with light. The three criminals froze. Stopping. Not moving at all, not even blinking.

Legolas goggled in wonder, waving his hand in front of Bill's eyes. "He might as well be made of stone!" He sounded a bit in awe.

"Something I picked up from a friend a long time ago thinking it might come in handy." The stranger made shooing movements at the boys, who finally started grinning.

Fili pushed on Tom's arm, but the big man didn't even look at him. He whistled.

"Now. I mean it. You need to run along now lads. Did I mention this little spell doesn't last but a minute?"

Faramir threw a wild look at their savior and then back at Kili, the two took off. A moment later, so did the two blonds.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

Ori met them in the middle of the street, much to the consternation to the drivers trying to get to where they were going. He had Eomer and Boromir with him.

The two counselors looked at the young men and stopped, pulling them back toward the ferry area. Boromir laughed and ruffled his younger sibling's hair, telling him that adventures awaited them ON the island, not here in town.

Eomer looked suspiciously at Ori. "I thought you said they were in trouble?"

Legolas stepped forward quickly. "He was telling us we'd BE in trouble if we didn't come back."

Eomer pushed his long hair behind his ears, his eyes showing he had his doubts over that explanation but could see no way to say that without causing offense. "Is that true?" He asked Ori directly.

The teenager swallowed hard, but nodded gamely. "They left the area." He said, then shot a questioning glance over at Kili.

Fili was watching the building they'd just come from, wondering where the man who'd saved them had gone. Should they go back for him? He caught a vague movement from the corner of his eye, almost like the young brunet whose name he didn't even know knew Ereborean sign language. But when he focused in that direction, the dark-haired boy wasn't doing anything except trying to look innocent.

"Well let's all get back before anyone gets in trouble." Boromir grinned good-naturedly. At his side, Faramir relaxed with not a little bit of relief.

Fili rolled his eyes toward the building, looking at Legolas. The taller blond shook his head and lifted his chin back at the ferry area. When Fili turned to look, he saw their short statured rescuer calmly waving at them.

How? How had he gotten by them? What had happened to the three criminals? Were they still statues, or had it worn off by now?

"Come." Eomer said, as if that was the end of it.

The dark-haired brunet walked by him, still looking innocent as can be. Then as he passed he whispered. "Watch who you call an idiot, idiot."

Fili gritted his teeth and followed the rest of the group inside. He watched the trio they'd gone to rescue move back over to the far side of the waiting area.

Legolas walked up to him. "That was ….odd."

"A panic and a half." Retorted Fili, using slang to indicate it was all a big joke. Only no one was laughing.

"What'd the Gondor kid say to you?"

"Faramir? Nothing." Fili's blue eyes blinked and he rolled his shoulders.

"Naw. The other one. With the dark hair." Legolas clarified his question.

"Nothing, called me out for saying he was an idiot."

"When did you do that?" Legolas asked, confused. "I don't remember that."

Fili now froze, almost as still as the stone trolls they'd run from. He'd called the brunet an idiot alright. In Khuzdul. And the teen had understood him! "He's not from Gondor." He whispered.

Legolas nodded, then looked up with some relief as a horn sounded. "Ferry is arriving!"

"You sound too excited for a ferry arrival." Fili commented absently, his mind puzzling on how the brunet without any braids could possibly know anything about the Khuzdul language. It was not taught to outsiders, nor even really used in front of them. He flushed a bit, realizing he'd done just that.

"It's not the ferry I'm excited about." Legolas grinned. "It's her."

It took a moment, but Fili finally looked up. "Her?"

The blond reached out and touched his companion's chin and then pointing over toward the offices where the administrative work was done. A very pretty girl walked out with brownish-honey colored hair with soft curls escaping her braids and framing her heart-shaped face. Fili caught his breath, temporarily pushing aside all thoughts of bratty and reckless brunets who knew more than they should. "Oh."

"Sigrid." Legolas sighed happily, laughing at the snagged attention of his newest friend.


	5. In which names are chosen

"Sigrid." The name was a caress.

"I saw her first." Legolas teased, though only half-joking.

Fili slid a sly look at his companion and possibly new friend. "She wear your pin?" A ubiquitous question and pretty straight forward. Was this Sigrid already spoken for?

His face crumpling a bit, Legolas shrugged and shook his head. "No pin of mine, nor one from anyone else for that matter."

"Icy?" Asked the Ereborean teen a bit surprised to learn the pretty lass didn't have a steady date.

The blond practitioner's face smoothed into disdain and a slight sneer. "No. Friendly. Cautious. Father on board the ferry, he's the captain. Doesn't trust us summer travelers."

"What's she doing?" Fili straightened, alert and watchful as the curvy yet slender teenager started picking up bags and carrying them toward the ferry loading area.

"Her job." Legolas' lips tilted upwards. "Don't offer to help her. She'll give you the brush off and tell you to mind your own. Takes helping her father very seriously, does our lovely Sigrid."

Fili blinked, his blue eyes measuring his friend before flashing a rueful smile. "You tried that approach already." He guessed.

"Two summers in a row." Legolas shrugged. "Couldn't help myself."

"What else has been tried?"

"Are you writing a book?" Current slang for saying that the other boy was asking too many questions.

"Share." Fili insisted with a hangdog look.

The blond scion of the Greenleaf family tree gave a self-depreciating smile and a quick tilt to his head. "Okay, what else has been tried? Do you mean just by me, or anyone else? Why should I help you?"

"If I impress her, it doesn't mean that I win her. Could just become friends. And there you are, already my friend and there she is, my other friend." Fili winked and gave a telling laugh.

Legolas stared for a moment then sighed with resignation. "Or you could win her."

"Or I could win her." Fili agreed, his voice hinting at bits of arrogance.

"And your uncle would allow you to see her outside of the summer?" Legolas asked pointedly.

Immediate deflation of mood. "That's close." Fili murmured, meaning that the words were wrong and cut too near to the truth. "Your father?"

The long-haired blond managed to look equally as dejected. "No name, no title, no blood, no wealth, no …."

"Frosted." Fili winced in sympathy. "Uncle wouldn't care so much about that. But a girlfriend would 'distract' me from the great goal of reclaiming our homeland."

Legolas gave a soft snort. "I don't know which is worse. Your uncle or my father." He peered over to where some Dutch lads were trying to flirt unsuccessfully with the object of their attention. "Come on."

"Where?" Fili objected, not wanting to leave Sigrid to fend for herself. Not that she needed much help it seemed, he saw her ignore the rich and handsome Dutch heirs to some fortune or another.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

Kili pulled Ori aside, looking around furtively to make sure they couldn't be overheard. "The blond one, with the warrior braids. Erebor."

The younger lad nodded slowly, his own expression clearly worried. "We already tried to call your Uncle Frerin."

"Shh!" Kili warned his friend, looking about them once more but finding no one paying them any mind. "Look. We're going to have to play chill out here. Stay sharp. Can't let him or anyone else know where we're from."

Ori reached out and without blinking or change in expression tugged lightly on his warrior braids, a clear signal of his origins. "A bit late, perhaps?"

The brunet bit his bottom lip and shrugged. "Okay. You're from Erebor, clearly. But my braids came out on the plane ride so I can claim citizenship elsewhere. Where can I be from?"

The younger of the two looked around as if seeking an answer, until his eyes lit upon young Faramir who had finally finished being scolded by his older brother. He gestured for the youngster.

Faramir walked over to them, his eyes cautious. "No more leaving, yes?"

"Yes." Ori agreed, though Kili didn't. The dark-haired youth wasn't sure about not leaving. Frerin had drummed it into his head from a very early age. Trust no one from Erebor with a British accent unless presented by Frerin himself. Said that the former king's son Thorin was a threat to them, though he'd never really explained why.

All Kili could really remember was the urgency in his uncle's voice and the agreement from the other warriors living with them from time to time. Stay away from Thorin. If the uncrowned king got his hands on Kili, then he'd never be allowed to visit America or see his family there again.

What had seemed a rather unpleasant bedtime story, now took on a whole different meaning.

"We need a nickname and a new home for Kili." Ori continued as Faramir's eyes widened.

"Why?" The youth asked in a rushed whisper.

"Rival family business." Kili whispered hoarsely. "My uncle is very cautious, but those two blonds over there?"

"The ones who rescued us?"

"No. That was the little man." Kili dismissed the blond's participation presumptively. "The shorter one with the braids? Erebor."

Faramir glanced at Ori and his own braids, and then back at Kili's loose hair.

"My braids fell out while I was travelling." Kili admitted with a slight flush. "But it was good luck for me. Now I don't have the braids and can be from somewhere else."

"But where?" Ori tugged nervously on his jacket sleeve.

Faramir shrugged. "Your accent is pure American. Can't pass you off from Gondor."

"Rohan?" Kili threw out the suggestion without much confidence.

"What do you know about Swaps?" Faramir asked quickly.

"Swapping what?" Kili asked, thrown off by the question and looking confused.

Faramir's face fell and he shrugged. "Not Rohan then. Swaps is the new Kentucky Derby Winner. You know, the California Comet. Out of Iron Reward?"

"Horses?" Kili blinked a bit helplessly. "I can ride. Montana ranch and all that. My uncle's friend Bifer raises working ranch ponies and horses."

The youth from Gondor shook his head, sure of himself. "Those guys from Rohan are BORN in the saddle. If you can't talk bloodlines, forget it. I only know as much as I do because Eomer won't shut up on the subject."

"And not Gondor. Really, no one else has hair as long as ours except for practitioners." Ori caught Kili's arrested look. "No. You are no practitioner and can NOT pass as one."

Disappointed Kili nodded. It was true. Magics weren't his strong suit, he could just about key the household wards but he certainly couldn't bespell even a pebble.

"Gondor." Faramir drew out the word, then grinned. "Descent. You could be American now, but from parents from Gondor. Claim they keep a traditional household, that's why your hair is longer and loose."

Immediately brightening, Kili nodded.

"But the name is wrong. Kili Durinson? Pure Erebor." Faramir pointed out what was obvious to him at least.

"Need a name. A nickname. Nothing too outrageous." Ori said, his nerves settling down a bit now that they had part of a solution.

Faramir peered at the brunet's shirt and the emblazoned name on it. "What sport is that?"

"Football." Kili said, then made a face as Faramir shook his head. He clarified his answer. "American football."

"L.A. Rams?" The young male from Gondor sounded less than impressed. "Do they have nicknames?"

Ori nodded enthusiastically. "The quarterback's nickname is Skeet. Everyone in L.A. loves the guy." He grinned suddenly. "When he's winning."

"L.A.?" Faramir mused, then brightened. "Los Angeles? Where they make movies?"

Kili nodded, glancing over to where passengers were being encouraged to board the ferry now. "My uncle is a movie producer."

"Hollywood." Faramir grinned and pointed at his new friend. "Your new name is Hollywood. And now, you're going to save my life and go ask the Headmaster to let me be your suite-mate this summer."

Kili blinked suddenly, then laughed. "I am?"

"Yes." Faramir shuddered. "Met the ones I was scheduled to have. Thick-headed blokes from Gondor that my brother picked out. They don't care much for me, but want to impress Boromir." His voice dripped with disgust. "I want to make my own friends. My brother is great and all, but I don't want to ride his coattails."

Kili and Ori laughed and along with their new friend went in search of someone to change their rooming assignments.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

"What are you up to my old friend?"

Gandalf Graymane puffed languidly upon his pipe, savoring the fine flavor of the tobacco. He didn't bother to glance to the new arrival at his side. He knew who it was. "Bilbo Baggins, as I live and breathe."

"Why would three former Austrian agents try and kidnap a few of your young charges?"

The taller man paused mid-puff, then calmly blew out a smoke ring suspiciously in the shape of the British pound.

"Yes, yes." Bilbo sounded a bit put out. "I know these are all scions of the best and richest families in Europe and elsewhere. But today was more …directed. And the targets a mixture of Erebor, Gondor, and if I am not mistaken the son of Thranduil of all people."

"You are rarely mistaken my friend." Gandalf spoke calmly, finally peeking over at his shorter companion.

Bilbo huffed yet again. "I was mistaken when I allowed old sentiment for a friend of my mother's to talk me into an 'adventure' I believe you called it?"

Gandalf stood upright and looked up at the sky, as if merely gauging the weather. "Oh? And you didn't liberate a fortune and repatriate most of it to the rightful owners? And found an unclaimed deed with just the type of house and lands that suit you best?"

"Sometimes I hate you, old friend." The diminutive and soft looking man said without much heat. Bilbo was someone often underestimated. Even by those who knew better, such was his disarming demeanor.

"I know, I know."

"So." Bilbo sighed heavily as he gripped the metal railing on the ferry. "Why this meeting?"

Gandalf turned, his eyes perusing the two decks of the ferry. Finally his gaze lit on his target. A tall, slow-moving youth with kind eyes. "Beorn Carrock."

Bilbo's mind was quick and sharp and full of many sundry things. Including bloodlines. "Carrock? Northman heritage from the Anduin Valley. I thought the family died out."

"Parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins. Beorn is one of the last of his family. Heir." Gandalf paused, and Bilbo tensed up, knowing his friend's pauses usually held great meaning. "He has a legal guardian, of course."

"Of course." Bilbo echoed, wondering at the hardening in his friend's voice all of a sudden.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

It was easy. Very easy. With Faramir being the son of Gondor's current Steward, no one questioned it when he introduced his friend, Hollywood. Currently living in America.

They avoided Boromir and his friends, but nothing too obvious.

The only nerve wracking part was when the two blonds walked up to them. Kili nearly had to sit on his hands to keep from flashing Khuzdul hand signals to Ori. What was the use of pretending to be from Gondor if you blew it in the first five minutes?

"I'm Legolas." The taller blond spoke up quietly, then indicated the broader male beside him. "This is Fili. He's of Erebor."

Kili's ears began to ring. Fili? Fili? He struggled not to look over at Ori in panic. Was the name a coincidence? Those of Erebor often had siblings and cousins with similar sounding names. It was a tradition.

"He's Hollywood, and I'm Skeet."

Kili finally looked over at Ori, who apart from going pale, seemed to be doing fine.

"Skeet?" Fili laughed. "What kind of name is Skeet?"

"Nickname." Ori said, barely a quiver in his voice.

Fili's blue eyes narrowed on the duo for a moment, but seemed to let the introductions slide for the moment. "We need to talk."

Kili's flight or fight reflexes were set on a hair trigger. He caught his breath, ready to come up with fists swinging. He was acutely aware of where his hidden daggers were too. Only, he knew that this Fili had blades as well. He'd seen them in the melee earlier.

"Who were those trolls?" Fili asked.

It took a second for the question to sink in. Kili, now known as Hollywood, blinked hard three times in a row. That wasn't what he'd thought was going to be discussed.

Ori shrugged. "Don't know. K ..Hollywood wanted to make a call home and they offered use of theirs. In hindsight it was not the brightest move."

"Stupid." Legolas agreed.

Kili frowned sharply, wanting to protest the comment. But he was too light headed with relief. They weren't questioning him about his heritage.

Fili pointed at Ori's braid beads. "Family?"

"Orphan." Ori squeaked. "Please, don't."

Kili almost felt sorry for the other boy. Fili was instantly sympathetic toward Skeet. He knew what the blond was thinking. No one from Erebor would give up their name, not for a nickname. But someone who'd lost their family in Smaug's overthrow might try and distance themselves from the loss. Ori was obviously young and this Fili seemed instantly protective.

Damn it. Kili sat there and sulked. He just wanted to get rid of the arrogant blond, not draw him closer!

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o


	6. In which retirement is delayed, again

Fili felt bad about himself. He'd not wanted to embarrass or bring up bad memories for the boy who'd introduced himself merely as Skeet. He looked younger than him, maybe thirteen. His braids showed he was learning weaponry, though not having yet achieved any with mastery.

At sixteen, Fili's braids showed he was clearly proficient with bladed weapons of several different types. Not a master yet, but then he was actually young for the braids he'd already earned. Dwalin and Thorin being his teachers, there'd not been much choice in the matter. Sometimes it was learn or bleed. Not that he regretted that. He was all for training.

The blond looked away, letting the talk among the teenage campers ebb and flow around him while he made a study of the mystery presented to him.

First. Skeet. Very unusual to find someone of Erebor unwilling to discuss lineage. Second? He claimed to be an orphan, drawing Fili's immediate sympathy. But the beads in his hair showed he had family. Siblings perhaps? And how did an orphan, from a country overthrown by a despot, afford a camp such as Imladris? It took money to come here. And not just money, bloodlines too.

The fact that Skeet appeared nervous around him? That didn't surprise nor faze Fili. He was the heir to the throne of Erebor after all. That is if they ever were able to recover their ancestral lands and home. He was used to a little awe and nerves when his countrymen met him for the first time.

"You? You have family?"

Fili's blue eyes narrowed on the young Gondorian male with the American accent. Something about him seemed to rub the blond the wrong way. It didn't help that there seemed to be something almost belligerent or challenging in his manner.

"I have." Fili answered, deliberately being vague for no reason other than the brunet irked him. Maybe it was because Hollywood had recognized the Khuzdul word for 'idiot' he'd thrown at him earlier. He wondered if Skeet was breaking millennia old traditions by instructing an outsider of their language.

"Oooh! Little boys playing with girl-hair. Do you go to a beauty salon or a barber?"

The entire group turned to stare at the older boys leaning against the ferry railings. Legolas stepped forward and sketched something in the air.

The older boys, clearly recognizing that the long-haired blond was a practitioner, startled. They drew back in sudden fear.

Legolas smirked, turning his back on them. He didn't explain he'd done nothing. Couldn't really. Not while over running water that he didn't have a direct connection to, not like at home.

"Excuse me? Which of you is Kili?" A tall adult intruded on them all, bending at the waist in a polite bow. His hair was cropped short, though not a flat-top. Simply well groomed, if you weren't from Erebor, Gondor or Rohan. "The headmaster is ready to meet with you."

Fili looked bewildered. He was about to answer when the young brunet nearly jumped to his feet, almost stepping on the blond's feet. "Sorry." He muttered.

Ignoring the youth's rudeness, Fili nodded at the messenger. "I'm Fili, are you sure you have the right name? I can't imagine why the headmaster would want to see me." Actually he could, he just hoped the man didn't know about the skirmish with the giant trio who'd almost made off with all of them.

Hollywood seemed to freeze on the spot, then sat back down so fast it should have made his head spin. The brunet mumbled something inaudible, looking down at his feet.

"Kili." The camp counselor clarified. "Headmaster said a young man from Erebor descent. Kili."

"No. I am of Erebor." The blond laughed, shaking his head so his braids swung a bit to emphasize his words. "But the name is Fili. With an F."

"Is that like filly, as in …without balls?" Cat-called one of the older campers who'd gone back to leaning against the nearby railing. "Filly, Filly … with your pretty blond braids and sweet blue eyes. Pretty as a picture. Pretty Filly. That's what I'll call you this summer."

The camp employee drew up to his full height and glared down his nose at the offending youth. The young man grinned and slowly stood up straight, but didn't lose his cocky attitude. "What?"

"I think the headmaster would probably like to see you too Mr. Tolliver."

The youth in question rolled his rather broad shoulders and smirked while running a hand over his freshly cut buzz cut. "My pleasure. Tell him to call my secretary."

Several teens laughed, while a few more simply smiled as if not wanting to offend the bully. Toliver was a well-known name. And a rich one. Around here, rich was relative. Everyone here came from money. To be considered wealthy in this crowd? Meant stinking rich.

The practitioner stared at the youth. Mr. Tolliver stared right back. A few moments later, the youth's smile began to dim. Another few moments and he started to fidget. In under a minute he was looking down at his expensive 'casual' shoes. "Report to the headmaster please." The please wasn't really a request, merely a formality. Everyone knew who'd won the little contest of wills.

Fili grunted in approval and turned to look back at the group behind him. Legolas was standing at his left looking troubled, but ready to back up his new friend. Surprising. But not as surprising as the fact that Skeet and Hollywood had moved up on his right side, slightly behind him. A unified front? "Thanks." He mumbled, uncomfortable.

"Thanks for your assist earlier." The brunet sounded like he was biting into a lemon in order to actually offer gratitude.

"Let's not mention that again." Legolas said dryly in his posh accent, looking around at all the campers near enough to overhear what shouldn't be spread about.

Skeet and Hollywood both nodded solemnly.

"Kili?" The counselor sighed. "I mean, Fili?" He gestured toward the stairs leading the ferry's main cabin.

"Oh right. The headmaster." Fili shrugged, sneaking a look at Legolas who gave him a wink of encouragement and a thumbs up sign.

"Later." Called out Skeet, who then fended off a harsh look from Hollywood. "What?"

"Ask him about the rooming situation." Legolas called out as Fili headed up the metal stairs. "Beorn Carrock!"

Fili lifted a hand in acknowledgement to show he'd heard.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

Now that the braided wonder was gone, Kili felt like he could breathe again. He relaxed his hands, shaking them out again.

Ori gave him a tentative smile and Kili shrugged. If this journey to camp was so tense, what was the rest of the summer going to be like? Maybe being kidnapped would have been better. Kili made a face. No. He knew better. Only they hadn't made it to the island yet and already his temper was frayed.

"Hollywood huh?" Legolas asked while redolently lounging back against a thick pole holding up one edge of the upper deck.

Kili eyed the practitioner, but had nothing against him other than he was British and friends with the Erebor guy. Fili. Fili, really? Were they related somehow? Distant cousins? With Ereborean blood that was a distinct possibility. He grunted in acknowledgement and nodded his head. "That's my name."

"Know any stars?"

Ori laughed. "His uncle produces movies. Now HE knows lots of stars, but they don't all come by the house."

Legolas looked back and forth between the two. "You share a house?"

Kili stirred. Dangerous. "No. Although Skeet stays with us sometimes. We're just good friends." And distant cousins, although he didn't add that last bit.

Apparently Legolas had friends like that too, he just nodded. "Anyone I'd know about?"

Kili shrugged. "Met George and Gracie Burns a few months ago." He admitted. Though he left out the part where he and Ori had crashed the dinner party his Uncle Frerin was throwing for the couple. Only the fact that Mrs. Burns had been enthralled and delighted with the young teens had saved them from adult wrath.

Legolas shrugged.

Ori stirred and sighed. "American television stars. Came over from radio."

"Heard of them, I guess." The blond didn't seem impressed.

Why he felt slighted, Kili wasn't sure. It seemed the blond had something of a dismissive attitude. "Harpo Marx taught me to play croquet."

Legolas blinked, then grinned. "Now him I've heard of!" He rolled his shoulders. "Though I am far more interested in starlets. You know, Lana Turner or Marilyn? Someone like that?"

Kili flushed while Ori laughed so hard he slapped his knee. "Oh, he's tried. But his uncle won't introduce him."

"Shut it!" Kili hissed.

Ori's laughter settled down a bit. "Actually. Fr ….his uncle says that he thinks Lana Turner hangs out with the entirely wrong crowd. Says she's nice enough, but doesn't like the company she keeps." He put his finger alongside his nose.

Legolas raised his eyebrows in question.

"Mobbed up." Kili explained. "Gangsters."

"She's in with Al Capone?" The blond sounded awed.

Ori hooted a bit, flapping his hands in amusement. "He's dead. Besides, that was Chicago."

Legolas made a face and rolled his eyes, settling back down. "Anyone you did meet?"

"Mickey Rooney." Kili shrugged. "Twice. Nice guy."

"Bridget Bardot?" The blond asked with a hint of a leer.

Kili groaned and waved a hand up as if he were in school. "I only wish."

Ori chuckled and nodded. "Me too."

"Third." Legolas grinned at them both.

"Almost met Jerry Lewis once." Kili supplied with a grin. "He left only about fifteen minutes before I got home."

The blond groaned and laughed. "Bad luck."

"Worse than you think. Bad enough to miss him, but he'd not come alone. He had Dean Martin and Janet Leigh with him, because they were making a movie together at the time. Missed them all." Kili groused, remembering the unfair way Frerin had taunted him about the debacle. He could laugh about it now, but at the time he'd been devastated. He'd really wanted to meet the guy.

"Love Martin and Lewis." The blond grinned, shaking his head in sympathy.

"Uncle says they're breaking up their partnership soon. Just wait."

Legolas blew off the comment. "Doubt it, they're too successful as a team. Loved Janet Leigh in 'Angels in the Outfield' though."

Fili sauntered back down the stairs toward them. He shrugged lightly at Legolas' questioning look. "Headmaster Gandalf is a strange man."

"True." The blond grinned. "You're not the first to say it. What did he want you for?"

"To be honest, not sure." Fili scratched his head absently. "Oh, he did agree to put us and Beorn together in a cabin. Didn't even ask why."

"Very cool." Legolas shook Fili's hand. "Look, my father and your uncle may hate each other. But let's not go that route."

Kili smirked a bit, his earlier ease flitting away with the blond's arrival. "Smooth like apple butter you are."

Fili looked at him, as if he were a puzzle in need of deciphering. Kili tried hard not to fidget beneath the scrutiny, sorry he'd said anything at all.

"He just means you're a smooth talker." Ori supplied, his eyes moving nervously about the group. "Hollywood?" He waited, but Kili didn't respond. "Hollywood!"

The brunet jerked slightly and looked at his friend, he wasn't used to his new nickname yet. He'd have to work on it. "You should go speak with the headmaster, ask him about making sure Faramir is in with our cabin." He tilted his head, as if to silently say something else too.

Oh. Right. Kili grinned. He could use the room assignment question in order to go visit the Headmaster. Who'd been looking for him, not Fili. "Good one, Skeet."

"Oy!" Legolas called after the departing brunet. "What about David Niven? Vivien Leigh? Rex Harrison? Have you met Christopher Lee?"

Kili turned around at the top of the stairs and called back. "No. I wish. He's not all that. And who?" He laughed and made his exit with a swift wave of his hand.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

Gandalf Graymane looked up at the knock on his door. "Come in, come in, my friend. Care for some tea?"

"Always. But not right at the moment." The fussy little man brushed a stray piece of lint off of his rather fine jacket.

"You've forgotten your shoes again." The taller man pointed out kindly, nodding toward Bilbo's bare feet.

The smaller man wiggled his toes. "Shoes are a bother." He mourned.

"And they make sounds when trying to remain unseen, which is all the time for a descendent of the Great Took. Am I right?"

Bilbo smiled and twitched his nose slightly, then straightened his shoulders. "I have decided. No more adventures for me. Thank you." He bobbed his head twice.

"You're most welcome." Gandalf smiled gently. "And the adventure will be here waiting for you when you want it."

Bilbo started to turn away, then with his back to his friend he dropped his head sadly. "You think you know me so well. Not this time. I'm tired, Gandalf. I'm going to retire."

"What? Again?" Teased the much taller male. "That's the fourth time since I met you." He paused for a moment and then sighed. "You're needed. Much needed."

Bilbo blinked, then looked up at the doorway. "You have a visitor." He announced.

Gandalf straightened. "I do?" He too then waited. A moment later he heard the tread on the stairs that Bilbo had already picked up on. "Seems that I do."

A moment or two later Kili rounded the corner and approached the door. The young brunet hesitated on the threshold, looking in through the open door. "Uhm."

"Uhm is neither a greeting nor a word." Bilbo said smoothly.

Kili blinked, recognizing the man who'd saved them earlier. His dark eyes slid worriedly to the tall man behind the desk. "Kili Durinson, at your service sir." He bowed his head.

Surprised, the little man returned the gesture. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours."

"Boggins?"

"Baggins." Bilbo corrected rather firmly.

"Thank you." Kili said, putting rather more emphasis on the words than he normally might have.

Bilbo flicked his eyes back towards the tall man behind him and twitched his mouth and then wrinkled his nose. He shook his head very, very lightly.

Kili's mouth firmed. Mr. Baggins hadn't told on them. He relaxed a bit as his smile warmed significantly. "I was told the Headmaster wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes. Come in." Gandalf gestured in welcome. "I met a rather nice young man just a moment ago, name of Fili. Any relation?" He asked with apparent casualness. "Oh, Bilbo. Don't let me keep you from your retirement."

Retirement? The smaller man didn't look all that old to Kili's eyes. Although there was something about the man's gaze that read older than he looked.

Bilbo paused with a heartfelt sigh. "Did you plan this?"

Gandalf chuckled. "Who me?"

"Do they know?"

"I think perhaps that they do not. But it's of no concern of yours. Being retired and all." Gandalf Graymane smiled a bit wider on that note. "Now. Come in Kili."

"Er. Can you call me Hollywood? While we're at camp. It's ….rather important actually." The young teen sounded a bit anxious on the matter.

Gandalf shot a look at the back of Bilbo's head. "Yes. Yes, I can do that. Hollywood it is then. And a new name for the friend who accompanied you from America?"

Kili started to relax a bit. "Yes. Skeet."

"As in the things people shoot at?" Gandalf frowned.

"As in the L.A. Ram's quarterback." Kili laughed.

Gandalf gestured for the young camper to take a seat. "Now, Bilbo. If you're retired …"

The smaller statured man sighed deeply and took a seat. In the office. "I fear you will be the death of me one day, my friend."

"Perhaps not." Gandalf chided gently.

Bilbo sent a speculative look out of the corner of his eye. Fili. Kili. Durinson. At the same camp. At the same time. Gandalf knew better than that.

Unless he had something up his sleeve.

o.o.o.o.o

o.o.o.o.o

**A/N: All apologies to Rex Harrison and Christopher Lee. Love them both!**


End file.
